It seemed the trooper that didn't belong was a woman judging by her feminine tones coming out from the helmet.

Well at least if I do get stuck on here I have some company….

He shrugged at the female “It doesn't look like I'm going anywhere to be honest,” he said with a charming smile. As she headed to the cockpit Rouser bent down dropping the blaster rifle and looking for a place to start in stripping the trooper of his armour. He would have to think of a good excuse for Tavion if she came on board and found him missing.

Unfortunately or fortunately whichever way you looked at it, Tavion never got on board. Electrical systems began to short out as it seemed like a lightning bolt had been pumped into it possibly from the madwoman Tavion. Before he could shout to the female trooper the shuttle seemed to shoot out of the hangar day making Pascale fall over and slammed his back into the floor.

Ow. Again.

There was the familiar jolt as they seemed to have shot into hyperspace, Pascale slowly raised his forty two year old body from the floor and made his way to the cockpit, picking up the blaster rifle on the way.

“Did you just do something?” he asked the trooper “Because it seems instead of being fried to bits, we have escaped the Star Destroyer” he looked at the navicomputer to see where they were going and then shook his head. Korriban. Fantastic.

“Looks like we are heading to the home of the Sith themselves a sacred place for the Sith Order. A place I have avoided as an archeologist as some of my esteemed competitors went there to explore their tombs and never came back out again” he shook his head “No wonder Tavion is interested in this planet, and it could be their final target she keeps prattling on about”

He then smiled again looking at her and offered his hand “Forgive my rudeness I haven't introduced myself. Doctor Pascale Rouser, archeologist and treasure hunter. And you are?”

Feyna never got a reply from Drayson; she was knocked backwards as the shuttle's systems unexpectedly sparked to life, prompting an equally unexpected jump into hyperspace, and her comm lost the connection. At least the tracking program was installed, though whether Drayson would get the information, Feyna wasn't sure. She'd probably have to call him back once they dropped out of hyperspace. The computer was indicating a brief stopover between here and their final destination--Korriban. Historically a Sith world, according to the archaeologist, who had arrived in the cockpit to investigate.

He'd asked her name. "Feyna," was all she gave him. For now, he didn't need to know more than that. She'd thought about using an alias, but she didn't see much point in a cover if she was going to call Drayson later.

No point in the armor anymore, either, she supposed, so she set aside the helmet and began peeling off the other pieces.

"The lightning attack caused a power surge that triggered the jump, would be my guess," she added, just to clarify that she hadn't done it. "Not what I'd planned, but I guess at least we're away from Tavion."

“A pleasure” he said withdrawing his hand “I agree that it is a bonus being away from that madwoman, however unfortunately if this navicomputer already had Korriban as the destination on it I fear that she may not be far behind”

He sighed taking a seat in the cockpit placing the blaster rifle beside him “It seems we all have plans. Whether we all wanted to be on board her Star Destroyer is another matter. Me?. All I wanted to do was to retrieve an artefact I was contracted for, collect my money and leave onto the next job. However what I did not plan for was to be employed by a Sith cult, encounter a Dark Jedi and meet Tavion’s apprentice who is just as bonkers as she is.” he shook his head and smiled slightly “It seems the best laid plans always go astray”

“So what is your tale?. How did you end up here? Because by the looks of things you looked rather uncomfortable back there and not to be rude, you also look like you don’t belong”

Feyna took a seat in the co-pilot's chair, tugging off a shin guard to buy herself a few moments to think, unsure of how much she should tell him.

"Republic business," she eventually admitted. "And unfortunately I have to hope that Tavion does follow us, otherwise the tracker I just installed on this isn't going to do a lick of good."

Pascale deduced by a process of elimination that she was either a soldier or spy. No diplomat from the Republic would reach out to a darksider and one as nutty as Tavion.

She didn't say more and Pascale knew there was no point in trying to push her because he could end up spending the rest of the trip either locked up in a cupboard or stunned into silence. The question was why a New Republic soldier or spy get herself into this mess? There must be something they wanted or possibly somebody and this woman was willing to risk her life to get it.

A brave woman indeed.

“I would have thought you would want to get away from her and not let her chase you round” Rouser responded with a frown “Must be an important mission for you to want to have her coming after you. And unless you have a Republic fleet stashed somewhere ready to jump at a moments notice her fleet could just about obliterate anyone or anything standing in her way”

He shrugged, “I suppose I can help you with whatever you need to do” he smiled slightly, “I’m not much of a bodyguard but a nice woman such as yourself does not deserve to have a darksider trying to cover the galaxy in darkness try to kill her. And if you intend to go into the tombs of Korriban for any reason you will need my help”

Feyna wasn't sure what to make of his offer to help; she wasn't used to people wanting to look out for her, and as a rule, agents generally avoided getting civilians involved in their missions. But she and Rouser were stuck together for the time being.

"Well, the intention was for Tavion to take this shuttle, preferably without me on it, so the Republic could track her, but our unexpected jump put a bit of a wrinkle in that plan," Feyna clarified.

Having freed herself from the armor, she sat back in the chair. Might as well make themselves comfortable.

"That was probably my superior calling earlier," she tapped her comlink. "But I lost the connection when we jumped, so I'll have to check in once we drop out again, and I'll find out how he wants to handle it."

Pascale nodded, “I’ll leave it up to you and your boss as to what you want to do, but I warn you Korriban is a dangerous place, who knows what dangers lie there, there could be even more of Tavion’s minions hanging around”

“I never expected to be on this shuttle either” he said with a chuckle, “I expected to be on my way to my next adventure, scouring the galaxy for artefacts. Instead I am hoping that when we get there and if it comes to it perhaps stopping Taviom getting what she wants. Because if she does, I have a feeling there will be nothing left.”

"Yeah, Sith plots don't usually bode well for the rest of us," she observed dryly.

After a few minutes of quiet pondering, Feyna spoke up again. "What was it that you were hired to retrieve? The artifact you mentioned?"

Pascale got straight into it At first I didn't know what I was after. I was given instructions to head to Kashyyyk and find a Jedi Temple there. That's where I met Alora, Tavion's apprentice. She told me that she wanted to bring Tavion and the other Disciples and drain the Temple like they have done with other sites being Jedi or Sith and they were always the ones that I had visited."he shrugged "Perhaps I was being tracked who knows"

"When I arrived at the Temple she ordered me round another way whilst she went in the front. And as I broke through the wall with my laser it seemed she was engaged in battle with a Dark Jedi, she's the one you saw in the cage. It was the necklace she was wearing they were after, i'm not sure what it was about or why it was valuable I couldn't get close enough to see it. There were other artefacts there too but the Dark Jedi managed to stop me getting them" a small smile "Good for everyone I guess"

"I don't know what she wanted me to get for her on Korriban, it must be a Sith artefact given that there are many Sith tombs there. But it must be important enough to go chasing after"

Feyna wondered about the necklace, too, but Rouser said he hadn't gotten a good look at it, so there was no point asking again.

She didn't like the idea of snooping around on Korriban, but if there was something there that Tavion wanted, it was probably something the New Republic wouldn't want her to have.

"I'll ask my boss when I comm him, if there's any intel on anything Tavion might be searching for, but I don't know if he'll have anything."

The hyperdrive thrn beeped to say they had arrived at their destination. It was now a question of what would happen next….

IC: TavionArriving in the Cell Block of the Resurrection, Kashyyyk system

Frustrated, is what Tavion Axmis was. All these little irritants interfering with her final victory. Aryan was where he was supposed to be, but there were permutations in the Force, some muted violence which had occurred in the hangar. She could ill-afford to play a game of felinx-and-rodent on her flagship, nor could she head back up and down the ships length when she should have been preparing grand strategy for the advance on the Valley of the Dark Lords.

The Foreteller yanked upon Linnett, tugging her to a part of the wall with her own Force powers, and Voren assisted her in blowing apart the wall... which led to the trash compactor. A nudge on the small of her back with the Force, and in she went. Tavion arrived in-time to see her go, and peered down as Linnett slid. A sneer, and Tavion simply gestured, activating the compactor as she fell into it.

Turning away, she knew that enough was enough. She eyed her two dead Reborn, lamenting the waste at this point in affairs; the Book of Sith was gone, as was the ornate lightsaber. What an irritation... but then again, she thought, absently... Linnett was dead already.

She just didn't know it.

And no, she wasn't referring to the half-full trash compactor which she suddenly fell within - into which the walls began to close.

Voren and the Foreteller, spectral figures hanging above her, look to each other.

This had the potential to be quite bad.

The Sceptre of Ragnos she raised, and with a twist of the Force, she ripped a bulkhead from the ceiling and with a scorching blast, welded the plate over the hole that Linnett had blown; she would trapped before she could jump back up. Good, echoed Marka Ragnos, his attention shifting back up to the hangar. As much as it had been a goal to pursue the 'First Class' experiment, this was proving disruptive.

Tavion followed his ghostly presence, and reinitialised the lift to head back to the turbolift. Enough of this.

With a command, she compelled the shell of a captain - broken, emptied out, and filleted with her Will.

With an aggrieved sigh, Lumiya released the Force bubble surrounding the shuttle, and drew a Force blur around her to enter the shuttle. The Force shifted; notwithstanding her greatest efforts, they had been detected by Tavion, and the Darkness, and she grimaced. No surprises, what with the violence that Qi'ra had performed within the shuttle.

The Disciples were dead, and brutally so, she observed, and the shuttle appeared to have been brutalised as efficiently as the Sith cultists. Lumiya was surprised, but also not. As she had observed, Qi'ra merely needed permission to embrace all parts of her, and as Lumiya closed the ramp she eyed the woman, bruised, battered, bloodied and injured too - but not too grievously.

The attention of Tavion and her Dark Master brushed Qi'ra, and she would be able to realise just how much of all the anarchy and chaos and sheer power within the Resurrection came from just these two. The Force lurched, and Lumiya smoothly sat in the pilots chair, wordlessly setting the shuttle to move and jump, rushing through the rest of the checklist that the Disciples had been interrupted from completing.

Ah yes, there was the planetary profile of the target.

Lumiya managed not to jolt too hard, ignoring the inevitable gaze of Qi'ra upon her.

Korriban.

They were going to Korriban.

She covered by making sure Qi'ra saw that Lumiya ran a check on the hull to prove it was still space-worthy; she allowed her pride to spill into the Force, and then they exited, and jumped... just before the Star Destroyer itself spooled up to do so. It was one thing to be in hyperspace, safe, it was another to be trapped aboard a Star Destroyer for the duration of the jump.

Tavion seethed as she headed up the turbolift.

Then, and only then, did Lumiya properly look at Qi'ra. "How do you feel, my apprentice?"

Something seemed to lurch within Lumiya, and she knew it would burst from her throat before long.

"The dark side; it approves of your sacrifice," she gestured to the bodies. "It wants me to name you." Her fingers reached for Qi'ra's face, brushing aside the blood upon her cheek - Qi'ra's blood, from some unaccounted for wound, as a blade skimmed her, or even her blade, who knew - and Lumiya held it on her fingers, marvelling at it.

Arek shrugged. "Where?" Then his mind drifted. "Moor gave it to me, actually. He said that Palpatine had wrote the first one, and the other four were by the successors on the project."

Palpatine Report I

The First Class is just that; the first class of students, between four and six, depending on the references you read, on Nouane, or, perhaps, Dwartii. Both are systems which, for much of the Old Republic's life, independent from the same, though after the Mandalorian Wars the Nouane and their 212 worlds petitioned to join the Republic. That assault on Nouane gives rise to several considerations in and of itself, especially with what occurred in-system during the subsequent Jedi Civil War. Had Darth Bane the context, he would have asked the Holocron of Darth Revan the appropriate questions, but for shame, he did not before the Holocron expired. But the experiment must be resumed, and the Echoes of the Key collected; the Sages of Dwartii have guided me, as it was suggested to me so long ago, and the Lost Masters are key to what happened and what will. It is a question, but one I do not know, and one I may already know the answers to, but it ties to those who inherit the Echo... which has proven difficult as . My research into the Old Ones was but the first step; I have tasked what will become my Second Imperium with unlocking the mysteries of Typhojem, the so-called God of the Sith...

Darth Sidious

It was pretty much what it said.

The first of five reports into an ancient group known only as the Sages of Dwartii.

How it connected to Aryan Graul, one would have to ask. Arek looked glum. It was all questions and no answers.

Kenix could barely believe his eyes. One moment, they were being pursued by the Tukata, the next, Ka'rta was spinning to face it, and Kenix was turning to shout at her not to, to follow them into the Valley - and the missile shot out and into it's gullet and out the Tukata's back. It exploded, a rain of flesh and bone and blood that would upseat the team and send them tumbling.

In a short moment, Kenix called out to her, under one of the larger chunks of meat. "Ka'rta!"

The rest of the team was alive, albeit disoriented by the mass of blood and skin from such a massive creature. They still had the tomb to enter, but they had at least mapped a large chunk of it; the final chamber was all that remained sealed. Nobody had died in the final moments, notwithstanding the large bone that had dug a decent dent in one of the Sun Guard.

But there was a dark chuckle. You resist us and yet embrace our violence; our flesh surrounds you, and you accept us. Drink the blood of our pets, and then rend the flesh of those who would disturb our slumber.

Artefacts? A stern voice snorted. You do not yet see where our power lies?

Flesh, flesh, flesh came the first voice, and more chittering laughter occurred.

Sith Space, a hyperspace sinkhole created a hundred millennia ago - according to Legend - was a shifting of ways in and out, though it had became particularly porous at various points in history; those points where the Sith species came boiling out the Stygian Caldera like a hive of maddened hornets, ravaging all in their path. Indeed, the pathways to the ancient Sith worlds seemed to be periodically blocked; efforts to re-trace the ancient hyperspace lane to Empress Teta had proven difficult, though the records were eventually unearthed; the connections between the Caldera and former slave worlds such as Elom, Draethos and the Tionese worlds were out-of-place historically; the prison world of Tund lay far beyond the Caldera, too.

But, nowadays, it was more than possible to pass into and out of the formerly impenetrable celestial veil, and so Sentan Moor took his shuttle with no small trepidation to meet the shuttle of Tavion, that was due to meet him at the edge of the Caldera. Tavion intended to arrive in advance of her Star Destroyer to avoid drawing unnecessary New Republic attention; the Stygian Caldera and surrounding Esstran Sector were deep within the Borderlands between New Republic and Imperial Space; the chunk of territory framed by the Hydian Way and Perlemian Trade Route. The former was Imperial north of Taris, and the latter was New Republic since the invasion of Antemeridias a year prior. Between those two hyperlanes lay Mandalore, Korriban and indeed Yavin 4, the location of the Jedi Praxeum, as well as the independent Commonality and Corporate Sector - a veritable no-mans lane that the New Republic stalked for Imperial forces.

There was no need risking much for this moment, though Tavion intended to use Sith Space as the new centre of the Second Imperium; of the Empire Reborn. It was tantalising, and Sentan was overjoyed to be involved. He had left his bounty hunter bodyguards back on Korriban to oversee the Academy, trusting Ka'rta to clear the final barrier to the tomb of Marka Ragnos in the interim. He could pilot his own ship, even if he in reality programmed it to take him up on auto-pilot and auto-jump to the rendezvous.

So when the shuttle arrived, Moor promptly opened the channel to it; to Feyna and Pascale. "This is Czerka Director Sentan Moor, my Dark Lady. I come bearing good news about the excavation of the Tomb of the Dark Lord. I am ready to escort you on your Pilgrimage to Korriban." He did not begin to turn back towards the Caldera yet, expecting that he would follow her, not lead. Indeed, he was unhappy with his usage of the word escort, but he had said it now.

Just as much as the hail could surprise them, so too did Feyna's comlink re-activate; Drayson again, who had been worried that he had lost touch of her, and the location of the final target. Both her and the intel were important to him, notwithstanding the galactic import of the latter.

It worked, of course it was going to work, it was always going to work, she didn't have a split second where thought about what she was going to do without her hand...or hands. The looming creature burst showering the area with chunks of itself. She tried to outrun it, but was taken off her bike by a huge slab of meat. Her armor kept any rocks from piercing her, but she could feel a bruise forming on her side. It was nothing she could keep moving. For an instant she asked herself if this beast would be any good for eating.

'You resist us and yet embrace our violence; our flesh surrounds you, and you accept us. Drink the blood of our pets, and then rend the flesh of those who would disturb our slumber.'

Until the voice returned. She kept her mouth shut feeling some blood slip under her helmet. With a growl she pushed herself up and crawled out from under the hunk of meat. Getting to her feet she wiped her visor with her equally bloodstained glove, leaving a smear of blood across her face.

"This is my violence." she muttered to the remains. Looking around they seemed to be mostly in one piece, at least none of them were dead, that was a plus.

"Alright, dismount, we're heading up to the temple, make sure it is clear for the other group." As she walked bloody footprints were left in her wake, she didn't care, she'd slain the beast, nothing else mattered. "Don't just stand there, come on." She pulled up the map putting it in the upper corner of her HUD, they had most of it explored and cleared just the central chamber. That would be fun.

Qi'ra had cleaned her shoulder as best she could manage on her own, about to cover it with a bacta patch when she picked up on the closeness of Lumiya's presence in the Force. Not there then here quite suddenly, she froze as a moment later the female Sith appeared in the entrance to the cockpit. Returning to her shoulder as the other wordlessly took up position in the pilot's chair and began to prep the shuttle for launch, she winced at a wave of pain that shot out across her back when she pressed the healing substance onto the wound.

Truthfully, she'd dealt with worse. But kriffing hells did this hurt.

Having dropped all focus on her mental defenses as a result, the intrusive fingers of darkness trickled over Qi'ra's thoughts like tiny pins of ice driven into her skull. A sharp intake of a breath and she let out an audible hiss through clenched teeth, not really sure which of her current discomforts now stung the most - the physical or the emotional.

Fidgeting, as if to roll the foreign presence from her mind though it did nothing to dampen it, she gingerly replaced the tattered sleeve of her top and moved into the co-pilot's seat. Watching but not staring, she noted Lumiya ran thorough extensive safety checks in her take-off procedures, and also determined their destination - Korriban. Feeling the Sith's apparent pleasure in regards to their direction, she peripherally understood why. An ancient homeworld for her kind, perhaps this mission of hers was becoming more sacred and meaningful than she originally intended and she found herself wondering what else she felt. Becoming so wrapped up in trying to discern the woman's thoughts, she only belatedly noticed that they had successfully lifted and launched, springing into hyperspace without a hitch.

"How do you feel, my apprentice?" Lumiya's words snapped her out of her reverie as the blue ocean of their hyperlane washed over every surface within the cockpit. Qi'ra withheld her response, only meeting her gaze and waiting for what she was building to next. "The dark side; it approves of your sacrifice... It wants me to name you."

Initially casting her eyes towards where her Master had indicated - her victims in the hold - she was brought back to where her focus should remain by slender fingers that reached for her face. Their eyes met again though with a significantly heightened intensity as a stain of blood was almost tenderly cleaned from her cheek, her skin burning upon contact. "To claim you."

Qi'ra narrowed her eyes non-aggressively, however there was an uptick in her pulse. 'To claim.' To own.

"A name," she inquired cautiously, knowing Sith usually called themselves something of their own choosing rather than what may have been given to them at birth. The idea that this might happen to her had not crossed her mind until this very moment, and knowing that it was happening now brought forth a degree of hesitation. Qi'ra was who she was through and through, regardless of whoever it was that had chosen the moniker for her. She had made it her own and created an entire identity that was defined by it, she could not imagine herself as anything else....

"What name, does my sacrifice warrant?"

Lumiya felt the inquisitive side of Qi’ra at work, and she smiled, drawing off her veil. “You seem adverse to being the servant of the Dark; a good thing too, for Sith command the Force, not the other way around.”

She absently produced a handkerchief to wipe aside the blood on her fingers, passing it to Qi’ra. “But for all your isolation, for all your power in certain circles, what you did then,” Lumiya indicated the dead, before bringing her eyes to meet Qi’ra’s, “and what you could do if you wished,” Lumiya added, with weight to her words, with an innocuous thrill running through her, and the Force, “they are things which you desire. To be unbridled; unfettered; unchained.”

“To be the centre of your world; a creature that power comes to, and craves your approval... to have men and women in the palm of your hand, be it by controlling their secrets, their loved ones, or their weaknesses... both carnal or otherwise.” Lumiya looked wistful, and then sat back, breaking the spell; but not too far baxk. “Am I wrong?”

"No, you're not," Qi'ra admitted. Lumiya had it as close as she could, for knowing so little about her and in such a short amount of time. It was unnerving if not more so appealing. She'd never been read so deeply before, or understood so honestly, not since her time with Han long ago. And she had been a different person then, not even half of what she was now. "Though adverse is a strong word..."

Biting back a noticeable reaction to a fresh bout of pain as the bacta did its job, she frowned and looked away. "Despite a few... recent developments to the contrary, I do not rush headfirst into the unknown. Caution, even a little, is safe." She paused, eyes sweeping over the navi-comp that still displayed Korriban as they continued along their route, flicking back to Lumiya's face after a beat. "You seem to have a way of disarming caution, however. And I'm still not entirely sure if that's a trick, or a truth."

Qi'ra held back the rest, saying enough to make her point.

Lumiya leaned forward, and took her hand in hers. She placed it on her chest. Lumiya’s eyes met Qi’ra’s. “It’s my truth,” she said, a smile to her lips. “I’ve walked through this galaxy as the one person that Luke Skywalker would have no choice but to hunt down and kill; as a war criminal with no hope for redemption; as a monster in the eyes of all...”

A flare of madness in her eyes; no, not madness - power, and knowing that she had it, and exulting in it. “And it did nothing to me. I am beyond and above them all. I am Sith - a True Sith.” She lifted Qi’ra’s hand to her cheek, and held it there.

“I am only persuasive only because I am speaking your truth; because you and I are two of a kind. We can become one, in the Order.” Lumiya’s eyes yellowed.

“Do you wish to join your fate with that of the Order of the Sith Lords?”

Qi'ra not only heard the honesty in the words but felt them in Lumiya's voice, and in her touch. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a rapidly deflating part, there was still an internal protest taking place that warned against going further down this path. That cautionary instinct to be wary, but the less she tried to resist what she wanted, the easier that part of her became to ignore. Piece by piece, her walls were being single-handedly dismantled.

Was this the dark side clawing at her to claim her, as her Master had put it? It seemed too simple that way. These choices she was making had as much to do with the woman before her than with the Force itself, both so intricately entwined that she could not separate them.

"Yes," she said suddenly, before she had even conjured the word in her mind. As acceptance and a deeper submission hung in the air, Qi'ra saw that she had been saying 'yes' all along, offering a fleeting smirk in the moment. "Though you already knew I would say that."

Mesmerized by the golden hues that swam within the Sith's eyes, her fingers stirred beneath the hand that held it, drawing back slowly from her cheek to trace slowly downwards to where it had been placed first - over her chest. With each breath she matched Lumiya's, holding her gaze as she became so finely tuned to the rise and fall of the growing connection between them. "If the darkness has chosen a name for me, I wish to claim it."

Her chin rose marginally and all caution was silenced at last. "Tell me what I have to do."

"Kneel before me, Qi'ra," Lumiya said, softly, eyes meeting hers. She was already taller than her apprentice, but now it was even more apparent. It was a short response, as Lumiya had no intention of moving Qi'ra to kneel. As with all of these moments, they had to be entirely consensual.

It was the act of giving that one found ones true name.

She remembered Vader bequeathing her name upon her, more than a decade ago now. A secret Sith apprentice... ready to work with her master to undermine Sidious. There were rarely just two Sith in the Order. Candidates abounded, and indeed during the Clone Wars as many as six Sith were active at one point. But Qi'ra would not be her secret.

She would be her successor.

Kneel.

Qi'ra's entire muscle network tensed in a wave, then rolled loose like the clench and release of a fist. That was all she would feel by way of resistance to Lumiya's request, so fleeting that she didn't even recognize it for what it was.

Leaning forward in order to stand, her hand briefly pressed into the woman's skin as she straightened to her full height, then trailing away as she stepped backwards into the center of the cockpit; her eyes never once left her Master's. Taking a deep breath, Qi'ra did what she swore she would never, ever do again since her time with Dryden Vos and she lowered herself before another. One knee pressed into the hull beneath her and then the other, her hands kept at her sides.

She said nothing.

Lumiya held out her hands, and allowed the Force to flow between the two of them; it intermingled, co-mingled... it would be akin to a physical interaction, an interweaving of limbs and the pressing of skin upon skin - but deeper than even that. Lumiya closed her eyes and seemed to draw in air, not so much tenderly exploring Qi'ra as pointedly, but at the same time, not at all roughly.

The Force between them became tightly bound, an embrace in many and all ways.

"Syren."

Lumiya exulted, trembling slightly as if releasing a pent up emotion or moment.

"Lady Syren, I name you."

Qi'ra's head tipped back as her eyes rolled the same, her lids fluttering closed just as her lips parted, a gasp escaping them. A rush of emotions seized her and a surreal power started to fundamentally change her; claiming her. Where she had glimpses of this electric-like surge before, now it was a blazing charge that shot through to the marrow of her bones, a sensation that transcended the physical.

In that stretch, the name Lumiya spoke rang out in her ears as an echo. Syren. Each time she heard it, its sound buried itself deeper and deeper inside her, beginning to feel somehow familiar. Like she had heard or seen it before, though she wasn't sure how. That aside, it settled over her as a name that felt right, that fit. That she was already working to make hers.

For all her refusal to let 'Qi'ra' go, it did not appear so difficult anymore. She was shedding skin, letting the past die to be reborn into someone new.

Creeping up her spine were interlacing tendrils of the dark, and the strength they brought with them just about undid her right then and there, her body shuddering visibly as the tremor slowly released her. Her eyes opened again and she brought herself up straight to look upon Lumiya. Their bond was real now, tangible in the Force and in the emotions traveling freely between them.

Exultation flowed between them; the blessed release of a drug more potent than any in the galaxy; lust. Lust for power. The Force has shifted, allowing Truth to flow between its tectonic plates, to become corporeal in the apotheosis of death and rebirth.

The passing of Qi’ra.

The rise of Syren.

To become a Darth was, the ancients said, to master Death. So it was appropriate to be renamed when one became a Sith, as the first step towards the ancient title. The title that Lumiya, as Steward of the Order, could pass, though she had yet to name a Darth as her successor.

Perhaps soon she would.

The way in which she said Master sent an electric thrill through Lumiya, and she knew what she needed to say.

“Then come to me, my apprentice.”

There was no ambiguity in what Lumiya said.

None whatsoever.

If Lumiya had said nothing at all, Qi'ra, no... Syren would have still known exactly what it was she wanted. In this oh so intimate of ceremonies they had both been stripped bare and laid vulnerable, but instead of appearing weak she only saw that they were after the very same thing.

Syren exuded a strength and mental focus that had been unlocked as she was named and bound to her Master; a heady buzz tipping her already high self-assurance into near arrogance as she fluidly pushed up to her feet and stepped towards Lumiya with hunger in her eyes, reaching for her all at once. Each of her hands grasped the sides of the woman's face and aggressively pulled her down while stretching herself up, the whole sequence taking seconds before her lips crashed into the other's.

Physically connecting after so much emotional build up lit every nerve in Syren's body on fire as her hands gripped tighter and she kissed harder, pressing them together because close was not close enough.

Lumiya allowed the woman to pull her down, meeting her in a middle with lips upon lips. Syren was just that; an alluring sight, impassioned, sensation flooding through Lumiya; a practical part of her mind saw Syren expanding her mind and technique with the Force - learning to engorge on emotions which were not her own; thrusting her perceptions into another; draping her mind across the skin and testing her tactile senses - but Lumiya did not embrace that part of herself; that machinery behind her thoughts.

No, Lumiya was all force, and emotion, drawing her closer with augmented arms and squeezing at her with her hands, the kiss becoming fire, becoming agony, becoming conquest; the most Sith of sentiments, as Syren conquered Lumiya, and Lumiya conquered her.

Taking each other for each other; breaking the chains of separation, of pain, of fear, of damage that others had wrought upon the two of them as Shira and Qir'a.

The Force made them one; and it was in short order that their crude matter bound them together in reflection of that simple truth.

It wouldn't be long before Tavion and her cronies made it here, he and Fenya had made a head start but he didn't know how long that would last. Perhaps they could find out what Tavion was looking for, however it was a temple or tomb he was going to explore he had no tools or weapons apart from his vibroblades. They were all still aboard Fortuna.

He had heard stories and legends regarding the tombs and temples there however it had not been on his lost of places to visit. Namely because it was considered dangerous down there and that some of his rivals had disappeared without trace whilst here.

And yet here I am, about to step into the very heart of darkness itself.

A shuttle was rising to greet them and here was the problem. Tavion of course was not here and if anyone asked he would have to make a good excuse as to why she was not on board. He couldn't try to pose as one of the troopers as his Commenori accent was a dead giveaway. He would have to be himself and hope that whomever was on the other end fell for it.

It was a fifty fifty toss up as to whether that would happen.

The only other option was for Feyna to be Tavion it was up to Feyna if she wanted to take the risk and see if their caller also fell for it. Again fifty fifty on that one.

The comm crackled to life "This is Czerka Director Sentan Moor, my Dark Lady. I come bearing good news about the excavation of the Tomb of the Dark Lord. I am ready to escort you on your Pilgrimage to Korriban."

Was hoping that you would not call…

And what was the Czerka Corporation doing here? Had they formed an Alliance with the Disciples? And what were they doing near a tomb on Korriban?. He wondered if it could be related to this Ragnos they were all so fanatical about. Why would Tavion need him for this?

And now Feyna’s comlink was going off, no doubt her boss giving her a call.

“We don’t have much time” said Pascale turning his face to Feyna “I can talk to him on the comm and stall him a little, but if he gets wind that Tavion is not here we may be in trouble. And I don’t think the excuse that Tavion is meditating is going to cut it, especially if this man comes aboard. And since he is part of the Czerka Corporation it would mean we end up chained up in a cell, or dead. Or maybe he’ll just leave us to Tavion and she’ll do it for him”

“So either you take your call or you can help me on the comm, it’s up to you. I’m sure your boss can wait a minute whilst we get out of this jam”

He activated the comm as he faced front “This is Doctor Pascale Rouser, I greet you Sentan Moor on behalf of the Dark Lady herself. As an archaeologist I am pleased to hear that you have good news regarding the tomb, I have been asked to come ahead of the main fleet to check on progress. And if I feel it is disappointing then sadly I will have to report it to Dark Lady Tavion. And you know how she handles disappointment…….”

“The Final Target is in sight and the Disciples of Ragnos will not tolerate failure, not at this critical juncture, deliver your report”

The ‘Palpatine Report’ was old and yellowed with age, its pages brittle between Aryan’s fingers as he flipped through it with care. He had to tilt it at a slight angle so that he could read the small text in the pale light streaming through the crevice near the door, but it did not change the context of the message; it remained true and resonated deeply with a small part of himself that still appreciated the nuances of the past. This was a collection of Palpatine’s private ruminations, an ancient tome that linked back thousands of years and possibly exposed the man’s most intimate secrets. The prose was in his voice, and he almost sounded uncertain or…desperate? From what Aryan could gather, he was trying to solve a riddle, yet at the time of this writing, he had apparently hit a dead-end…

Unfortunately, Aryan’s luck wasn’t much better; he was having trouble deciphering it as well. It spoke of the Echoes, yes, but in a way that raised more questions than answers. What did the former Emperor mean when he said that the Echoes were the key? The key to what, exactly? And how did that all relate to specific terms such as the Lost Masters and the Sages of Dwartii? It didn’t make sense to him; it was just a random assortment of names and nonsense.

But before he could further analyze these findings, Arek’s voice filtered back through the wall to deliver some disturbing news. “Moor gave it to me, actually,” he revealed calmly. “He said that Palpatine had written the first one, and the other four were by the successors on the project."

With a sharp intake of breath, Aryan released the report from his grip and stepped away from it as if it posed a real danger to his well being. Under the circumstances, maybe it did. If Sentan Moor had willfully allowed such a sacred text to fall into their hands, there was surely an ulterior motive. Either this was a test, or he was hoping that they would uncover something...something important, that he and Tavion were incapable of securing themselves. It would almost certainly benefit neither Graul.

“Did he say…why?” Aryan asked carefully, placing a hand against his chin as he began to pace. “I can’t make much sense of it; I don’t recognize any of the names or places, but that doesn’t mean there's not a connection or that he doesn't have a plan. Are the other four like this?” He paused and pursed his lips in thought. “Does he even have them?”

"Moor has a lead on them, apparently," Arek said. He shrugged. "His connection to you is what allowed him to edge his way into the Disciples; to put Czerka ahead of the game. He is at the Final Target, apparently."

"Waiting for us; for you." Arek sighed. "For the others? Who knows. Tavion seems to think that making this big play on Korriban will force them out of hiding. That the Disciples are so near to success that someone will need to intervene to prevent us."

"After all," Arek said grimly. "We've been running circles around Skywalker and his Jedi. They've been stopping the projects we allowed them to, while we moved on to the next targets; like a list of hits. Tavion hasn't been prevented from draining any Force site she really wanted. Not once; she says she can see the future."

Arek paused. "But I hear..." his voice was strained here. "I hear she's other artefacts; more than the Sceptre she found on Commenor. The collector who had the Sceptre - she killed him, here, aboard the ship. His skull she left behind... after she burned the flesh from his bones..."

Aryan exhaled heavily and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He could’ve done without the gruesome details of the collector’s demise, though it didn’t change the fact that the information was all overwhelming. It was proving difficult to identify a logical connection between the various clues, from Sentan’s involvement, Tavion’s final target, the Echoes and artifacts, Palpatine’s ramblings...what did it mean in the grand scheme of things? He wasn’t a Force scholar or a trained expert on the subject, regardless of what Tavion and her Disciples thought. He didn’t have any insight on how to proceed.

And then there was the matter of his son being far more ingrained in this mess than he initially realized. It wasn’t likely for him to know this kind of knowledge without having lofty contacts. How far up the ladder did he report? He didn’t want to believe that Arek would purposely mislead him by feeding him sensitive material, but he had to remind himself that he had already betrayed him once back in the hangar. Maybe this was a ploy to incite a certain reaction or response...

...or to lead him into a false sense of security so Tavion could have her way with him.

Either way, Aryan knew he had to test him, no matter how much it pained him to do so.

“So, what you’re saying is this ‘Final Target’ of hers is more of a ruse,” he surmised evenly, allowing himself to sink back to the floor with his head resting against the stone wall. “At least, on the surface. It's designed as a trap to reveal more--” He winced slightly, trying to recall the right word. “...well, more like me. All this nonsense about scouring the galaxy for ancient burial sites to acquire artifacts and power, it was all part of a scheme to lure us out of hiding – to make their efforts seem tangible. There is more at stake here than simply releasing Ragnos from the grave. So, I have to ask…” He stretched out his legs and offered a small smile to the darkness. “What role do the Echoes play in this? How do we benefit her? And what would happen if we refuse to cooperate?”

Arek shrugged. "I really don't know any more than that the Palpatine Report set all this off. Tavion found it with the collector’s things. In the last year, she's been putting all these pieces together; since the Empire Reborn was defeated." He was referencing the neo-Imperial terrorist organisation that Tavion had been an apprentice within, the survivors of which formed the core of the Disciples of Ragnos; the highest ranks in the cult were the Reborn that had been created by the prior regime.

"But if I was to guess; someone handed Tavion all this information and let her run with it. Or someones." Arek pursed his lips. "Whomever is making it so that Imperial factions keep resurrecting..." Arek bit his lip. Since the Dark Empire had collapsed, and the Emperor had been defeated for the final time - so the New Republic claimed - the Imperial Core, Restored Empire, True Empire, Empire Reborn and now the Disciples of Ragnos had risen up in the last three years - the Imperial Core and True Empire still existed, but it didn't silence the point; the Empire's remnants were constantly convalescing around figures - Daala, Devian, Pellaeon, Hethrir, and Tavion respectively... as if there was a great certainty the Empire would resurrect.

It was that reason for which the majority of the galaxy was neutral now - mere thousands of worlds swore allegiance to the New Republic now, and the True Empire only held a quarter of the galaxy through overstretched occupations.

Aryan canted his head toward the door, narrowing his eyes in an effort to perceive his son through the steel casing. “We may have a chance to stop it.” His voice dropped to a low baritone, almost conspiratorial. “You can release me and aid in my escape. Don’t get baited into this, Arek…it’s not too late to do the right thing.”

Arek turned aside. "I can't. I need to press on; to give Tavion all that she needs to let me into that inner circle. Once I find the heart of what is keeping this war going, then I can help you. Until then; these Echoes, these Dark Lords. I don't care."

With a sharp intake of breath, Aryan rose abruptly back to his feet and turned to face the door, momentarily neglecting the fact that this had been a test to gauge Arek’s durability, motivations, and mental state. He didn’t want to believe that his son had become so lost. “Dammit, Arek,” he rumbled in a gruff tone, lightly pressing his fist against the wall. “By that point, it could be too late! She’s already on her way to the final destination. If you try to--”

He turned back, gritting his teeth. "I have to do this for my children... even if they're not mine."

For a brief moment, his eyes yellowed golden.

The confession stopped Aryan short, the weight of the young man’s words crashing into him like a powerful blow to the gut. It was enough to send a wave of nausea coursing through his system, and he instinctively leaned forward in an effort to ease his discomfort. He knew if he wasn’t careful, he would surely lose the contents of his stomach, though perhaps that would be the preferred outcome over trying to assimilate this latest revelation. It didn’t make sense...or maybe he simply refused to accept it.

“What?” Aryan stammered after a prolonged pause to compose himself. He shook his head slowly, his jaw working in disbelief. “I don’t understand, what do you--how?”

After all of their suffering, he knew this would have terrible ramifications for the family. He wasn’t concerned about Rylla and Bren potentially not being of his own flesh and blood; as far as he was concerned, they were still his grandchildren. It was the realization that Arek had deceived them. He had promoted a lie.

Why hadn’t he simply told them?

Aryan sighed heavily as he stared into the darkness. “How did this happen?”

"I don't know," Arek said, huffing. "But it's obvious now. You and I, according to Tavion - we shouldn't have the Force. Not in the traditional, genetic sense. We're completely Force-clean. Someone in our genealogy however, they had the Force - and they were powerful with it. But Tavion explained that the echo of the Force reaches to the last in the family tree."

"It's possible to jolt it out of the predecessor, they realised, through their experiments on you," Arek sniffed, "and on me." He didn't want to show the endless scars upon his back. "Your Force powers were forced out of you, but you suppressed them. With me? Tavion used the Sceptre on me, to increase the potential I should have had."

"But if you've retained that Force sensitivity, then my children cannot be mine, can they?" Arek sneered.

Aryan withdrew from the door and stepped deeper into the cell, reaching around to massage the back of his neck with a soft groan. He remembered the experiments – the torture – all too well, and he still bore heavy scars from the experience, both mentally and physically. He often referred to it as the ‘year that didn’t exist’, but now he realized that he should have been more vigilant, particularly with how it pertained to Arek and the grandkids. He didn’t understand then why it was happening, maybe he still didn’t...not completely, though now he had to admit that he did have a far better perception of events. Not only had his son provided a proper, yet complicated explanation, but Aryan recognized that the young man was hurting, perhaps even confused after everything he had endured.

But could he really blame him? He had been there himself.

“Only you can answer that, Arek,” he replied calmly, his back still facing the door. While he didn’t express his concerns out loud, Aryan suspected that the effects of the Sceptre may have set him off-balance, or messed with his mind in a detrimental way. He knew it wasn’t unheard of for certain Force rituals to drive a man insane. “I'm not about to call myself an expert, but you were there. Don’t allow Tavion to cloud your judgment. She wants you to question everything you value so she can control you. Don’t let her succeed.”

He inhaled deeply and narrowed his eyes, considering his words. “It’s also possible that she broke the rules,” he offered quietly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Through her experiments. What if she opened a gateway and this...Echo is no longer limited to--uh, to a single generation?”

Arek looked back at Aryan as if he thought that his father was merely humoring a madman. Perhaps he was. Without anything else to say to his father, he sealed Aryan in, shutting the window.

Mad or not, he knew there was a conspiracy at the heart of the Disciples of Ragnos; at the heart of the Empire itself. Once he found it, he would dig out its heart, and bring the corpses to his father as proof.

Feyna raised a curious eyebrow as she listened to Moor—Tavion hadn’t informed her contact that her shuttle had been stolen?

At least that meant that Moor hadn’t shot them on sight, but he wouldn’t wait much longer for a response. Problem number who’s-counting-anymore-for-this-mission, he was clearly expecting to speak with Tavion.

And Feyna’s comlink was going off as well—Drayson again, surely, probably imagining all manner of misfortunes that could have befallen her after they were so abruptly cut off last time.

She wanted to talk to Drayson, to let him know what had happened, and to find out if he had any intel on this Moor fellow, or what artifact Tavion might be looking for on Korriban—if it was important enough for Tavion to personally go and get it, then the New Republic definitely didn’t want her to have it, whatever it was.

Rouser spoke to Moor first, and Feyna waited to see if Moor would take the ruse. She might be able to pull off a convincing imitation of Tavion’s voice if she had to, but they’d still need to figure out what to do if they actually got to Korriban; Feyna did not look like Tavion, and even if she tried to make herself up enough to pass as the Dark Lady, they were screwed as soon as someone realized that Feyna wasn’t even Force-sensitive.

She silenced her comlink; she’d call Drayson back as soon as she had a minute, and hope that her tracker was working.

Madelyn hated the smell of garbage. And it didn't help that it was trying to kill her. "You couldn't have helped me blast through two walls could you?" Madelyn said, pulling a banana peel off her arm and throwing it across the room.

She looked at the walls slowly closing in and back up to the sealed hole above them. "Right so, any chance we can find another way out of here?" Madelyn asked her new friends. Ste was getting tired, but didn't know what the walls in this compactor were made of. She didn't want to risk losing her lightsaber.

Foreteller shrugged, mentally, drawing her chin to the liquid depths, in which all manner of filth floated and swirled and spun. "There may be an access at the bottom..."

"... but the door will likely be magnetically sealed," said Voren. "So we cannot shoot it."

"Lightsaber?" Foreteller said.

"Lightsaber, but it will be a tough cut..."

The walls began to press in. "... and we don't have much time," finished Foreteller. "You need to channel us both to hold them, or at least slow them..."

"Okay. I can do that." Madelyn unclipped her lightsaber and drew her friends close to her before reaching out with them, holding the walls that threatened to close in as she took a deep breath and ducked underneath the water, activating her lightsaber.

I'm going to open it. Hold on as long as you can.

Madelyn pushed her lightsaber through the floor slowly, red sparks disappearing in the garbage water as she slowly started to cut her way through, arms growing tired with pain.

There was more than just arm pain; there was strain on her mind, though the Foreteller and Voren stepped in to assist. They pushed back, adding to her strength, a strength which tripled her power; she could tell as much. The walls strained, but didn't stop - there was still movement, but it was altogether reduced, and indeed the mechanism was struggling.

The door was wilting under her lightsaber, the cutting becoming easier as she left the water for the upper half of the door, but she would have to curve around the top... and then finish off in the water. Difficult.

Foreteller seemed to be distracted. "I have been dead a year, maybe. What has happened recently?"

I've been on the run from the New Jedi Order." Madelyn said as she started to curve around the top of the slow, trying to ignore the pain. "I wish we still had a Sith Order. Most of the Emperors Hands are still filling out our Emperors Orders."

Madelyn cried out as she met resistance when her blade hit the water. This is harder then I thought. I guess it would have helped if I'd eaten in the last few days.

The blade was near the end of its run, hissing through the water, scalding Madelyn.

"The Sith are gone again?" The Foreteller sounded amused.

Voren snorted. "Not likely."

The blade finally cut through, and the door fell outwards, away from her -

I'm right here you know." Madelyn said sarcastically. She yelped as she fell through the floor and threw her hands out to brace her fall with the force.

“Good catch,” Foreteller said, idly. The ship hummed; it was gearing up to enter hyperspace. “We need to find somewhere to hide.”

Voren agreed. “And some food for Linnett.”

“Yeah, that too,” he said, as all manner of raw sewerage floated out the open entrance into the darkened corridor. It was some kind of maintenance shaft. Behind her, the metal slammed shut, crushing the rubbish and squirting a spray of ichor over Linnett. “A shower, as well.”

Madelyn smiled slightly and grabbed her lightsaber, looking around and recoiling as the smell of garbage hit her. "Any vacant rooms?" She asked quietly, starting to walk down the corridor. "Or someone that won't turn me in?"

The two Force spirits peered forward. "To the left. There's a maintenance officer's quarters," said Voren.

"Poor guy probably never gets to see the light of day." Foreteller said... "The guy is snoozing in his chair by the cams. I can show you a Force technique to send him into a trance, so he won't wake up any time soon."

Voren nodded. "It'll probably make him feel the healthiest he has in a decade, too." A spectral hand gestured out. "Shall we?"

Madelyn followed their advice and moved towards the left, opening the door and quietly tip toeing in as she eyed the maintenance man with pity. It wasn't a very large room, but it would do. "Please show me how to help him so I can get some rest." Madelyn thought to Voren and Foreteller.

“The Final Target is in sight and the Disciples of Ragnos will not tolerate failure, not at this critical juncture, deliver your report”

Sentan spluttered, frantically responding. "The final boundary to the inner tomb is being cleared as we speak, sir! You must reassure Lady Tavion that all will be prepared. If you would please follow me, then you will be able to." His shuttle began to turn, and yes, it seemed as if Rouser's ruse had succeeded; on the basis of sheer bluff, and the relentless fear that everyone had of Tavion. Fear didn't always breed compliance; sometimes it merely bred stupidity.

As was the case with Sentan Moor.

"The jump is a mere button away, my Lady. I have resupplied and double and triple checked the route through the Stygian Caldera."

Drayson sent Feyna a short text a few moments after she cut the channel.

WHAT AN ODOUR.

In his ridiculous way, that was code for we have your scent, or, we have your tracker, in more literal parlance. Which, of course, was good news.

But they had the inevitable issue that Sentan needed them to follow them... and sensors suddenly beeped with the inevitable fact; a large mass was a few moments from decanting from hyperspace, along the same route they had just followed.

The Resurrection was at maximum speed, chasing her rogue shuttle. It was maddening, that it had been stolen. She had a report that some of her Disciples were also missing, as well as another shuttle - adding to the loss of two Reborn. However, that one had jumped at a slightly differing angle to her own one; it wasn't meeting her at the rendezvous with Sentan Moor, but jumping direct for Korriban.

That was an issue, of course. It was more likely than not that the New Republic would be aware of their deployment. Ragnos swirled beside her. My return is inevitable. These rats are merely that.

Nodding, Tavion headed to see one of rats. In moments, she was there, and she arrived dramatically. A gesture blew the door inwards, and Tavion strode in, standing before Aryan Graul in all her splendor. "You have a single chance to prove to me that you were worth the effort of recapturing you, Graul."

She flexed her hand, lightning appearing between her fingertips; prepared.

Linnett had a rare moment to catch her breath. After the Foreteller and Voren showed her how to put the guard into a trance, they ensured she knew how to do so to herself. As they did, they explained that she would be able to use this to enhance her recovery from injury or exhaustion, or, indeed, to peacefully disable someone.

"It's a very Jedi way to take down somebody," Voren said drily. "Minimal harm, minor inconvenience."

"Assuming Tavion doesn't kill him outright for the failure," the Foreteller added.

"Well, yes."

But, Linnett found spare rooms for a larger staff to run the garbage disposals, though the majority of the work was seemingly done by mouse droids, who checked on the chutes. There was a single loader droid which activated merely to remove the detritus of their escape and seal the entrance with a foam which shortly thereafter hardened. In the room was a bed, refresher, and spare clothes, though much of it was cleaning-related, save for one single nondescript Disciple's uniform - in red. Similarly, there was a vending machine which decanted a daily allowance of reprocessed food and drink.

Foreteller and Voren took a moment to cluck over the situation as she sorted herself. "How are you feeling?" Foreteller asked, "Voren has let me know about your day so far... dramatic."

Voren nodded. "But she was an Emperor's Hand, I gather, from the whispers among the crew."

"Oh?" Foreteller said, seemingly piqued.

"I glanced over something or other - a secret communique about the Old Folk's Home." Voren said, softly.

... well, it was a bit of a mess. Clothes were, unsurprisingly, strewn everywhere. A tangle of corpses, some dead, some living, littered the floor at different parts of the vessel. Odds and ends had been upended, tossed aside in the whirlwind of heat and fire. Weapons had been strewn nearby, because they were pragmatists even when lost to their emotions, to their wants and needs.

When Lumiya resurfaced from where they had been together, emerging separately from the joint place that they had created and touched upon, she felt more like Shira Brie than she had for many, many years. Physicality was not something she had been overly concerned by since Luke shot her down - figuratively and literally.

But Syren had awakened that within her. Slowly, Shira drew together her self, for her senses had been scattered across the shuttle by sensation and feeling. A flash of memory, of lips caressing the dividing line between droid and flesh, as she drew her hands across her skin, recollecting herself by defining her body and herself by touch alone. She smiled, and looked for the form of Qi'ra, presently owned by Syren, bequeathed upon Lumiya as an extension of her self.

They were not yet to Korriban yet, and they had time to move forward. Strictly speaking, they were ahead of Feyna, Pascale and Sentan, for they had jumped directly. This was their last moment before they arrived. A handful of minutes remained, but that was plenty to reassemble herself as Lumiya, Dark Lady of the Sith.

In many ways, Kenix was in awe of Ka'rta. Not moments after killing a Tukata, she was up, drudging blood on her boots and not the slightest perturbed. If anything, she seemed alive. In short order, the troop made it near to the final barrier between the outer and inner tomb, though Kenix absently wondered whether Ka'rta would remain to... exhilarated? Validated? Ornery, even, in the meantime, as they traipsed by bodies of Sun Guards entangled in poisonous fines, speared by spent-traps, and a variety of parts of their kin lost.

All the while the voices sniggered.

You are nothing to us, we allow your progress with the payment of the blood.

The voices grew silent as Kenix set up the survivors to secure the exit to the chamber, and pointed to the corridor. The roof was somewhat lower than the rest of the tunnels, which were part stone and part rock as it went. But this area... it was all stone, lit at either end by sconces, an ornate doorway in the distance... with what almost seemed to be a bridge between the end of the stretch under the lowered area, but macrobinoculars showed it was mere a stone path carved down on either side.

Kenix pointed at the roof, and at the four corpses on the floor in the middle. "The remains of the last team that made it this far. They just cut-off, and the rest of the team that survived was reduced to gibberish. Whatever happened..." He winced. "It was not good."

Reeve.

Reveal.

Revealed.

Revelation.

The voices spoke their words anew. There were stones upon the floor, colours, shapes, paths. A path of pyramids led to the left... a path of black to the right... a path of red ran through where the four bodies lay... in the space between, tiles with a strange flame-shaped symbol. Above them, where they stood now, was the a monstrous visage, a robotic mouth working beneath the tentacles on its chin in time with the chants of the Sith spirits, drawing the eye of the team upwards. In its right hand was a pyramid, in its left hand, a red sphere which glinted in the flames of the sconces, that seemed to be burning with an unnatural permanence.

Pasca;e could not help but smile just a little when Moor responded, he had fallen slightly for the trap.

"The final boundary to the inner tomb is being cleared as we speak, sir! You must reassure Lady Tavion that all will be prepared. If you would please follow me, then you will be able to."

It seemed that Tavion’s reputation had preceded her, it seemed her minions were in contact fear of her, fear that Pascale was using. He knew himself that he would not meet this woman in a dark alley if he had to.

The shuttle of Moor turned towards what the computer was telling them was the Stygian Caldera the gateway to Korriban. It was notoriously difficult to navigate to Sentan being an escort was useful. He had to hope that the ruse would work fully otherwise Moor could lead them into a trap….or right back to Tavion and her fleet. Feyna had not responded over the comm so it was up to him to keep the ruse going.

"The jump is a mere button away, my Lady. I have resupplied and double and triple checked the route through the Stygian Caldera."

Pascale responded “Acknowledged, Lady Tavion will be pleased and I am sure you shall be rewarded appropriately. I also look forward to seeing your progress, all for the glory of the Disciples who will soon rule this galaxy under our glorious leader. Stand by”

He muted their side of the comm and turned to Feyna “Well he has taken the bait so far. But this cannot last forever. At some point he will ask for Tavion and if they detect she is not here they will capture us or kill us both. I’m not sure what you are up to with the New Republic but I sure as hell do not want a dead agent on my hands” Again it’s your call, either we follow and perhaps you try and act as Tavion, or we wait, they get suspicious and she ends up coming anyway which means we end up being stuck in a rather nasty cell and becoming Tavion’s toys”

The sensors then beeped, looked like something was coming, something that was quite large….

Possibly a Star Destroyer.

Pascale spat something rude in Commenori which was rare for him.”Well it looks like we don’t have much time. Tavion is coming, so either we commit or we might as well kiss our backsides goodbye”

He was now relying on a female New Republic agent to help him save his skin and he was albeit an informal capacity trying to act as her bodyguard of sorts. Keeping an agent safe could net him some plaudits and perhaps some much needed credits since his contract with Disciples would be coming to an end…

Qi'ra was awake... well, she was not entirely sure there had ever been a moment since encountering Lumiya that she had not been awake.

Awakened would perhaps be the better word.

Becoming Syren, there mere sound of the name upon her Master's lips had fundamentally changed her. And now in the aftermath of the resulting expression of that change... she felt positively alight in the Force. Powerful, strong, driven - it was an urgent combination of all things she had only thought she had known before but now, it was as if she never had. It was heady, a high she never wanted to come down from.

Sitting in the cockpit, half-wrapped only in the bloodstained cloak of one of the dispatched Disciples, Qi'ra was stretched out upon the controls. Her bare legs were propped up upon the dash and she was leaning languorously in the pilot's chair, her body thoroughly spent. The hot cup of caf cradled in her hands was almost too warm, the air in the shuttle oppressive with the heat of physical passion still hanging thickly about. She smiled, her tongue tracing her lower lip as a familiar taste called back a particular moment that reached a tender place deep in the pit of her stomach.

Lazily pushing with her legs, she slowly swiveled the chair around to face the hold where she had left Lumiya asleep, re-positioning herself so that she now sat sideways - back against one armrest, her exposed lower limbs hanging over the other. Her Master's body lay in the midst of the chaotic scene that they had mutually created, and she'd be damned if it didn't make her want to get up and do it all over again.

She withheld, taking a sip of her caf, staring lasciviously at the Sith as she began to stir. They locked eyes shortly after.

"Suppose we should talk about the mess, then?" Qi'ra asked it casually enough, but the question was clearly heavy.

Her boots were still wet with tainted blood making such a lovely squishing sound as she walked along the stone floor. She looked to Kenix as he walked in step with her. It was gruesome seeing the other Sun Guard locked in states of death, wrapped in thorns, run through with ancient spears, and cut to pieces. It didn't bother her, they were dead through their own misadventure. She had started to come down, feeling the initial rush of facing death fade from her system. It was business as usual, though she always seemed to walk like an angry Gundark. The voices didn't help really. Constantly belittling her, making her achievements nothing. She would clear this dungeon or tomb or whatever just to spite them.

"Shabala yes." she growled to herself. The echoes in her mind made her shift her shoulders narrow her eyes as they got closer to the exit chamber. Finally some blessed quiet as the other guards started to fan out and secure the exit. She checked her pistols looking at the floor noticing a subtle change in the ground beneath her feet. Looking up she noticed the roof being a little lower than the others. She'd been in enough buildings and other constructions, this spoke of this being older, or added later.

In front of them, past the entrance, was walkway leading to another entrance, another section of this creepy temple.

"The remains of the last team that made it this far." Kenix said pointing to the four bodies that lay on the middle of the path. "They just cut-off, and the rest of the team that survived was reduced to gibberish. Whatever happened..." He winced. "It was not good."

The voices returned causing Ka'rta to grit her teeth, above her she heard chittering or something moving. Looking up she furrowed her brow looking upon a visage. Tentacles moving in time the chants.

Something was revealed. A nightmare, a dream, something she hadn't experienced, or maybe she had. There was a thought, a younger woman, facing a statue a crystal and a pay day in her eyes. Another younger woman so idealistic, so unprepared for what was to come. There was a fight, blasters firing and bolts going every direction. An offer was made, an offer was refused...with some lingering regrets.

What was that...it couldn't be real, just a dream, it meant nothing. Looking up she could see the crystal orb, shining in the firelight. Something about it drew her, pulled her attention. Taking a step forward she started to walk along the right side path, under the divine being's left hand.

Madelyn was relieved, as Voren and Foreteller taught her a new trick, a Jedi one at that; she was happy to have a shower and discard her old clothes for new fresh ones; even if they were disciple ones. She was brushing her short hair, realising that it was now at her shoulders again when they started talking about her being an Emperors Hand.

"I still have a mission to complete." Madelyn admitted as she put the brush down. "I'm still an Emperor's Hand, but I've been on my own for a long time. I wasn't anywhere near Endor when the Rebellion struck that devastating blow. None of us were."

And now were being hunted.

Madelyn frowned at the mention of the old folks home as she emerged from the fresher, laying back on the bed. "It's Korriban." She said quietly, so softly it would appear as a mummer if there was anyone else around. Madelyn shook her head. The one place I thought I would never get to go.

Seeing Drayson’s message, Feyna had to roll her eyes just a bit, but at least he was tracking them. Just to be safe, she sent back Korriban’s coordinates, so he would know the intended destination, even if things took a bad turn for Rouser and Feyna.

Moor didn’t seem to be getting suspicious yet, but that wouldn’t last if Tavion’s Star Destroyer arrived before they got out of here, and unfortunately, that could be any moment, according to the shuttle’s sensors.

Feyna didn’t particularly want to attempt to impersonate Tavion; it would take a miracle to pull it off, and they were both dead the moment someone caught on. But it’d be no different if they tried to run now.

“I don’t see that we have much choice but to follow him,” she conceded. “But my boss is tracking us, at least.” Whether that would make any difference in the long run, she couldn’t say, but it was one thing in their favor, and better than nothing.

Arek’s words lingered for hours after he had departed...or maybe it had been days. It was hard to tell at this point; everything had a tendency to run together into one continuous blur. The only thing Aryan had to occupy his time in this primitive cell was his thoughts, and his son had certainly given him a lot to contemplate.

Too bad very little of it made sense...

Or was it that he simply did not want to believe the truths of this new reality?

The boy had spoken of secret projects directed by Emperor Palpatine himself, Force echoes, ancient genealogies, and a cunning plan to draw the rest of these ‘echoes’ out of hiding so that they could...commune with the Disciples at the Final Target? He was uncertain about that part, but if Tavion was leading the charge, he knew that it didn’t bode well for all parties involved.

But what truly troubled him was the assertion that they should not have the Force, at least not in the traditional sense. This echo apparently followed their genetic footprint, carrying itself from one generation to the next, but only manifesting physically – through true Force sensitivity – in the last member of the family line. That would be his grandchildren, Arek’s son and daughter…

And yet, here they were.

Arek had claimed that Tavion had endowed him with the Force through the use of some strange scepter, but what about Aryan himself? Even if Tavion had ‘forced’ his powers to materialize through the use of torture, he should not have retained his abilities with the grandkids around. That was why he had suggested that perhaps the Disciples had unwittingly broken the ‘rules’ through their experimentations, but that still did not offer an explanation. No wonder Arek suspected that Rylla and Bren were not his…

Unfortunately, he would not have the opportunity to further explore this mystery. Aryan felt a terrible chill travel down the length of his spine before a tremendous crash impacted against the door and blew it inward. Light poured into the cell from the corridor beyond, nearly blinding him with its intensity. He instinctively winced and raised a hand to shield his eyes, though it did not prevent him from noticing the figure silhouetted in the doorframe.

"You have a single chance to prove to me that you were worth the effort of recapturing you, Graul,” the woman purred in a luring tone, clearly enjoying the brevity of this moment. She was in complete control.

With a sneer, Aryan straightened his legs and pushed himself up to confront her, instantly recognizing the voice as Tavion’s. He knew that she was likely here to continue her ‘experiments’ from all those years ago, but that did not seem to hinder his resolve. He made a point to draw upon his past experiences and his newfound knowledge regarding the Force for strength. While it wouldn’t be enough to overcome her, it would certainly help him to endure.

Even when she flexed her hand to intimidate him, lightning crackling across her fingertips, Aryan did not allow himself to express any fear. He merely inclined his chin to meet her gaze, his lips pressed together in defiance. “You’re having doubts, then,” he noted with a wry smirk. “It’s almost ironic, considering you run the risk of losing one of your precious ‘echoes’ by doing this. You can’t afford to be wrong, can you?”

IC: TavionArriving at the Stygian checkpoint, aboard the Resurrection, in the secret deck

Oh what is this?

The Sith Lady growled at his impudence. “You’re having doubts, then,” he noted with a wry smirk. “It’s almost ironic, considering you run the risk of losing one of your precious ‘echoes’ by doing this. You can’t afford to be wrong, can you?”

Tavion lifted her hand. "I can afford anything. I am Sith, Aryan Graul. Whether you have some importance is of nothing to me. The Dark Lord will understand if you die; the echo will simply shift back to the son in full... without the need for me to spend energy from Sceptre upon him..."

A wicked grin. "Apparently. It's an experiment, after all."

She poured a bolt of electricity into the man, the bolt catching him on the throat, scrambling the mans nervous system. From experience, Tavion knew that a bolt there was the most painful, as Aryan's nerves would catch fire, and his limbs would writhe, and his entire body give out. She released the attack, shaking a lazy hand to dispel the smoke lifting from Aryan's form; not his corpse, not quite.

"Consider my interest piqued, though whether I take you as flesh, to be used up and discarded, when you're recovered," she said, lifting him up with the Force, propped up as if a puppet, and then she dropped him back. "We'll have to see." She looked to a servant, wrapped in purple robes that concealed his face. "Take him to the cloister when we arrive. They can put him back together when they are done."

Blackness consumed Aryan, and resolved into a black hilltop, a moon in the sky, and within that shadow came a man, who was draped in shadow... or, rather, a cloak, which hid his face away.

Madelyn would awaken feeling refreshed, clean, and recovered from her ordeal thus far. The ghost of an ache would percolate, which would waken her slightly earlier than it would have done, but her slow awakening was abruptly interrupted.

... I know the truth about you, of course, said Foreteller. And you know that I know, because you convinced her to Force Walk with me.

You would have outed me otherwise, no? Voren spoke, brittle.

But now we need to have a compromise, for the inevitable.

I didn't intend to tell her, obviously.

Obviously.

Do you?

If we can come to an accommodation, I won't.

Oh?

The Foreteller paused. Madelyn, are you awake? In that moment, there was a flare of the Force from her, and a spluttering panic.

"What are you doing here?" The voice, brusque, surprised, was that of the supervisor she had placed into a similar trance. He had woken, and lumbered into the room. Already was he frantically grabbing at his comlink, which he dropped in his rush. Looking at the lightsaber hilt, he turned to run back to the main chamber, his intention clear.

It was a short jump, and had really merely been a formality more than anything; an exhalation of Tavion's power, forcing Moor to come and speak to her, to remind him of her power. Moor had no issues with that; being the figurehead was her job. He would simply acquire power in her wake, and become her intercessor... especially if Alora was gone.

One step at the time, he reminded himself.

When they arrived, however, there was a ship already in orbit; Sentan's sensors hadn't been updated to include a stealth package, but the shuttle was in atmosphere, so most stealth equipped ships were less effective then. Lady Tavion's shuttle arrived behind him, and Sentan reached out on the comlink to the interloper; it wasn't a New Republic design, but he was sensitive to spies... ignoring that he was completely blind to one or two nearby.

He was sure to loop in Tavion, or, rather Feyna and Pascale, into the communication, to Lumiya and Syren. "Unknown shuttle; you are trespassing on Czerka territory. Identify yourself before the Lady of the Sith, Tavion Axmis, or die."

That felt good. She might disapprove, but they were about to reveal themselves to the galaxy, and this was Korriban; the soon-to-be seat of their power. With a Sith army behind them, led by a Dark Lord, the Empire would have the dark malevolence it required to crush Skywalker and his Jedi.

Of course, Lumiya and Syren were somewhat engaged at present. The attention being lavished upon her woke Lumiya, who sat up in the 'devastation' surrounding her; her apprentice was nowhere to be seen. "Suppose we should talk about the mess, then?" Lumiya smiled at Syren, gesturing to levitate another bloodied robe to her; there were plenty of dead Dark Jedi to filch from, though she arched a finger to send the remainder bodies rolling away into another room. "Suppose we do, Syren." She levitated the caf from her hands.

"Next lesson, my apprentice, is to always make sure your master is stocked up with caf." She sipped, and smiled at the bitterness. "The perfect caf, thank you."

Then the comlink chimed, and Lumiya, almost without thinking, gestured to activate it on a setting which projected the sound to them. She heard the male sniping at them... but neither Lumiya nor Syren could sense a great malevolence like Tavion... eyebrow raised, Lumiya stood, conscious and unconcerned that the 'shawl' covered very little. Leaning over Syren, teasingly so, she muted their reply.

"I do not sense anything, though it does interfere with my introducing the Sith homeworld," Lumiya said, slightly. "Shall we kill them for the affront? Or would you rather focus on our pilgrimage... for a few more hours?" The woman smiled, tracing her fingers upon Syren's shoulder. At some point they would have to return to their mission, but there was little need in the front of a pair of ships.

Feyna and Pascale, in addition, would have sensors providing them a reading of a variety of small ships and transports surrounding the old academy, indeed their stolen ship had a full breakdown of the mercenaries involved in this little affair, and three points of interest noted; indeed, the old academy, but the Tomb of Marka Ragnos was marked with the bracketed comment 'Final Target', and to the left of it, deeper in the so-called Valley of the Dark Lords was a simple X marking a spot called 'Cloister'.

With a Star Destroyer right behind them, there wasn't much time to tarry; they had a wealth of information, but the shuttle was still locked to the course due to the damage... though they would be told that the program was less than five minutes away from ending - at which point they would have control of the shuttle at last.

Kenix winced in-spite of himself, as Ka'rta stepped forward. He had visions of all manner of creatures, monsters, and the like, emerging.

Nothing.

She had found the correct path.

The entire team seemed shocked, almost in awe. As they stepped behind her, they promptly used the various items they had brought with them to brace the way, discovering that the ceiling would have smashed down like a hammer. It didn't take long for them to ensure that didn't happen.

As they did, they watched the Face withdraw into the rock, rumbling as it did so. The mechanism vanished, and as it did, the orb in its hand dropped out, landing on the floor with a clink. It continued to whirl unnaturally, and Kenix glared at the others. "Leave it. Ka'rta decides."

The rest of the group fanned out into the next chamber, the 'bridge' led to what was merely a door, opening for them as a result of her stepping the correct way.

Kenix ignored the call, because he wasn't in-charge, nor taking the credit.

The spirits answered.

Clear for the Sith... but you aren't Sith, are you?

They could hold here, or progress into the chamber itself to ensure that it was indeed clear. They had done more than enough, but had they done everything? Until the sarcophagus was open safely, was Ka'rta's contract finalised?

Above her the face receded into the ceiling, she grinned up with a triumphant smile. She defeated the test thought she didn't know exactly how or why she knew the answer. The rest of the team came in behind her setting up braces and holds to keep the ceiling from falling down on them. As the crystal started warbling on the ground she considered it. A crystal from a sith god, could be valuable.

"Bossk here. Tavion is here. Is the tomb clear?" The trandoshan growled over the comm.

Clear for the Sith... but you aren't Sith, are you?

"Clear," She growled right back for both Bossk and the voices. "Last door is open looking into the final chamber."

Carefully she looked at the crystal on the floor still warbling on the floor. It was odd and strange something strangely dark and alluring. The voices were getting grating angering her. Reaching down she almost went for the gem that shined up at her, but she picked up a stone that fell from above. With a casual toss she watched it cross the threshold. The crystal still rested by her foot.

Madelyn couldn't remember the last time she slept that well. It wasn't until Foreteller and Voren started arguing in the back of her mind that she started to wake up; wiping her eyes as she yawned before she jolted awake as she noticed the supervisor she had knocked out look at her in a panic, then her lightsaber; and then start to run for the door.

No!

Madelyn jumped out of bed, reached for the man with the force and dragged him back as she activated her lightsaber. She felt a panic rush through her; because all that was on her mind was survival before she struck the man down; feeling the life leave him through the force. She stared down at the Supervisors lifeless body, shaking a little before sitting back down on the bed as she deactivated her lightsaber. She held it in her hands, and Madelyn let out a shuddering sigh.

She looked around the room, reaching out to see if there was anyone else and when Madelyn was satisfied there wasn't she reached out to Voren and Foreteller.

IC: Aryan Graul and Mysterious Cloaked ManDreamscape, and then Shuttle, Enroute to Korriban

You damned fool…

Those words echoed inside Aryan’s head even before Tavion could respond to his insolence. He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth; what he didn’t know was how severely he would pay for it.

As it turned out, it was beyond anything he could ever imagine. Even the pain and the suffering he had endured over that ‘lost year’ in captivity seemed nominal compared to the wrath that the Dark Lady unleashed upon his body in this moment. The lightning crackled with luminous intensity as it lanced from her fingertips and caught him directly in the throat. He tried to scream, but no sound emitted from his mouth; his vocal cords would not cooperate. In fact, it felt as if his entire body was failing on him. As the electricity infiltrated every vital system with excruciating agony, his muscles contracted and convulsed of their own accord, causing him to collapse and flop about like a fish out of water.

In his flailing, he could see Tavion’s lips moving, knew she was lecturing him on something that was likely important, though he did not hear a word of it. The pain was too great to focus on anything else except his own anguished body. Fortunately, he did not have to suffer long – he was soon granted a reprieve as the darkness permeated his vision and carried him away into oblivion.

It wasn’t until he heard a distant voice, subdued, yet with a patronizing inflection, that Aryan began to regain some semblance of awareness.

"You have really messed up this time, haven't you?"

Aryan visibly winced and lifted his chin from where it had been resting against the ground, his eyes opening slowly to take in the rugged landscape that now resolved before him. He noted the darkened hilltop and the pale moon that hung low in the starless sky, but more apparent was the single, cloaked figure silhouetted against this baleful scene. It sent a chill down his spine, and he had to wonder – had he died during his encounter with Tavion? Was this a form of purgatory?

Shaking that thought from his mind, Aryan eased himself into a sitting position and frowned at the stranger, the breeze tugging lightly at his hair. “What would you know about that?” he countered testily, his eyes narrowing as his aggravation mounted. “Who are you?”

“Names are not important right now. I’m on the move, after all.” The cloaked man shrugged, before brandishing a pointed finger. “But you’re Aryan Graul, so that’s all that matters; you’ve been noticed, which gives me an in with this Second Imperium which is worshipping Palpatine.”

“Just, and it’d be really, really nice if you listened to me this time, don’t ask so many damn questions. It’s not useful right now, and Tavion will lose her temper soon enough and just snap that pretty neck of yours.” The cloaked man held out his gloved hands, palms up. “I’ll let you have all the answers to all your questions soon enough.”

Aryan’s frown deepened, the creases around his eyes and forehead becoming more prominent in the long shadows casting down from the hilltop. It was clear from his expression that the stranger’s words had left him baffled, particularly the casual way in which he addressed him. It was as if they were already acquainted, but Aryan knew that was improbable.

And yet, there was an odd familiarity about him. Even with his dimmed Force senses, Aryan could feel it pulsing at the edges of his awareness, like a bright beacon leading him toward the light. It was comforting in an outlandish sort of way, though Aryan wasn’t about to place all of his hope and trust into a vague perception that was ostensibly erroneous. After everything he had witnessed so far, he was rightfully wary.

“Somehow, I’m not entirely convinced,” he surmised with a tight smile, now rising slowly back to his feet. “I admire your audacity, I really do...however, I have a feeling you’re not doing all of this out of the goodness of your heart. There’s a catch, isn’t there? Possibly linked to this Second Imperium? You want something in return.”

Aryan paused to consider that for a moment before issuing a sigh, his hand coming up to tousle his graying hair in frustration. “Hell, I don’t even know why I care. This is some kind of dream, or illusion...or something. It’s not real.”

The cloaked man shrugged. “I’m a mere collector of artefacts; my collection was stolen by Tavion and my skull rests in the prison of this ship. My Force sensitivity has meant that I’ve been able to leave an impression in the Force for people to decipher.”

“But being as the Second Imperium is spreading rumours that Emperor Palpatine has survived his death, sure. I want something.” A grimace, merged with the Force.

“I want to make sure that Palpatine is dead, and those carrying on his investigations into the Echo are destroyed.” From a pocket in his robe, the man handed him a glowing red pyramidal Holocron.

With that, the dream ended, and Aryan woke up.

With the Holocron in his hand.

Despite his uncertainty, Aryan found himself wanting to know more about the cloaked man’s crusade against Tavion and the Imperium – practically craved it. The peculiar object he had placed in his hand only exacerbated that need. He could feel the weight of it as he hefted it in his palm; it was warm and vibrant, seeming to pulsate with an urgency that he could not ignore.

Was it…calling to him?

His lips parted in wonder, and he immediately lifted his gaze to seek out the cloak man’s visage. All he saw was inky blackness beneath the cowl, though that did not stop him from addressing the man with sincerity. “What is--what is this?”

The man did not have an opportunity to answer.

With a gust of wind, the landscape swirled around him in a tumultuous wave before fading from view. Another moment passed before Aryan awoke from the dream with a start, his heart beating wildly against his chest with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He tried to draw breath, but his sharp gasp quickly dissolved into a spasmodic cough that wracked his entire body. It took another minute or two before he was able to regain control of his faculties and finally became aware of his surroundings.

For starters, everything hurt. A dull ache plagued his joints and muscles, making it extremely difficult to move. He also noticed that his hands were trembling slightly and that he felt unstable and dizzy – no doubt a lingering side effect from the electricity coursing voraciously through every nerve-ending in his body. It would certainly take some time for his system to regulate after that harrowing experience.

More importantly, he was no longer in his cell onboard the Resurrection. Or at least, that was his assumption based on the different acoustics of the room. The weak echo he heard with each movement told him that the dimensions were far smaller, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. If not for the strange, red glow defusing some of the gloom, he would not have been able to see anything.

But of course, the fact that the red glow existed at all was reason enough for concern.

Shifting his position, Aryan clenched his jaw to prepare himself for the inevitable as he glanced down at the source of the haunting light. As he suspected, the ancient, pyramidal artifact that the cloaked man had gifted him was resting in the palm of his hand.

How…?!

So much for his assertion that it had only been a dream…

Aryan released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his quivering fingers becoming more apparent the longer he held the curious object in his grip. He would have surely dropped it, but he reached out at the last-minute to steady it with his opposite hand.

Now that he had it cupped between both hands, Aryan could feel that pulsating energy pouring into him once more – invigorating him. He found its lure irresistible, and he began to explore by guiding his fingers carefully along its angular surface.

There could be said to be a big decision or two made by some people to date.

For example, had Kar'ta been drawn to the left in the Valley of the Dark Lords, it is likely she would not have ever made it to the Tomb of Marka Ragnos, and instead headed to the Cloister of XoXaan.

Had Aryan Graul not so readily trusted his son Arek, he might not be in a cell in a shuttle ready to shuffle down to the surface as a prize for the 'Second Imperium', whatever that was.

Similarly, Rouser could have disentangled himself somewhat earlier from Alora's allure and avoided being trapped in a shuttle with Feyna, who had made a lot of sneaky decisions to reach this point, but arguably had yet to make a larger decision. Yet.

Meanwhile, everything Qi'ra had done was choice, though there was a large argument that she had been led by the nose by the beautiful Lumiya. But the same could be said of the Dark Lady of the Sith, who had fallen into the temptation that her new apprentice Syren had given.

But that decision meant the fate of Rouser and Feyna was in the hands of Syren, so I can't see any consequences for Syren yet?

Lots for some of the others, perhaps.

One or two of those choices, well, I couldn't quite yet comment upon. But, in due course, my friends.
---
Shuttle, alone, but not alone

The red Holocron glowed softly in the hand of Aryan Graul, responding to his anticipation. The chat with the Cloaked Man had not been all dream, and indeed the presence of the artefact in the room seemed to indicate that it had been real. But, they were definitely not in the same room they had been before Aryan was attacked by Tavion.

It wasn't Mandalorian iron, scarred by lightsaber burns, but just a simple, blacked out room, with the Holocron providing illumination to the battered Aryan.

The Holocron activated, resonating into the Force with him and revealing a cloaked man, his robes draped around him.

"This is unexpected... did it happen in the end? The Twilight War?"

---Depths, Star Destroyer Resurrection

"Why does it feel like you two just had a fight?"
Voren grimaced. Foreteller went away; he went wandering even further than this area.

I found someone; a Force user prisoner that has been transferred to a shuttle. I overheard the crew talking; the shuttle is not taking part in this big ole Final Push, and it's going somewhere else on Korriban. So, it seems the perfect shuttle to steal.

It's too risky, Voren said.

It's not, Foreteller snapped.

They averted their gaze as Linnett dressed, or what not. Foreteller jabbed a finger at the corpse, still cooling on the floor. We stay here, someone is going to come to relieve this guy from his shift, and find us. A battle is the best chance we have to leave.

Tavion will be going to the surface. We can escape later, when we're more sure. This is the first chance you want us to take.

The argument was going to continue, and it was down to her; it was her body.

The Resurrection was building its anticipation in the Force, though; they were about to arrive.

---Korriban, Tomb of Marka Ragnos

The carefully made throw did what it could have only done in the best of circumstances; nothing at all.

The spirits laughed at Ka'rta, finding it amusing that she was so blunt and so obvious.

Refined Voice snorted; Rasping Man had a snigger, too. Those were the names that Kenix had given the two, because it was usually them taunting the group. He did, however, try not to judge the consequences of him recognising the sounds of their voices. He didn't want to quite admit to going mad.

The laughs seemed to roll around the red-orb at Ka'rta's foot, and as he watched, he saw an image of Ka'rta evident in it. Kenix watched as it resolved into a group of people; a red-skinned Coway, of all things, a foppish man he recognised as an archaeologist that Sentan Moor had recommended to Tavion to employ, the infamous Han Solo and Wookiee Chewbacca... and another tomb that wasn't this one... but with another design to the same that reminded him of this area; of the vines that were serpents that were entrails that were...

He was about half a thought from calling Ka'rta a traitor, working with the New Republic in the past -

Another part of his mind finally remembered where he had seen this architecture style before, on an Imperial deployment to the swamp world of Dromund Kaas. A memory entered his mind, unbidden, of a cloaked servant of the Emperor - a Prophet of the Dark Side, he had said, and Kenix remembered trying to keep his annoyance at the man from his mind.

Ophidian Grotesques, they are called. Present on worlds which have either been devastated in an ancient cataclysm, or worlds with particularly ancient provenance. You can find this architecture in the very depths of the lowest levels of Coruscant, for example. If you find a planet with its foundations buried, you will often find, if you peer deep enough, this connection to the most Old.

Kenix frowned, the memory interrupting before he could think of the accusation, giving her a moment to break the chain of thought -

But the Voices seemed to be peering, watching, as if holding their breath.

"We can't stay here." Madelyn pointed out as she got dressed again. "So if we aren't taking that ship to the surface we also risk being caught here. Or did both of you forget how force sensitive Tavion is. She found me easily before. I want to get off this destroyer before she destroys me." Madelyn looked up and put her lightsaber on her belt, grabbing her things as she moved towards the door before. She paused before she opened it, and turned around to scan the room one last time.

Who is this force user prisoner? Are they a Jedi? Madelyn asked to Voren and Foreteller in the back of her mind. I need to know what I'm up against.

Qi’ra listened to the male voice that barked at them over the comm, but her focus remained on her Master; Lumiya seemed wholly unconcerned with the threat. In reaction to the Sith’s apparent indifference, she in turn began to search deeper within her burgeoning senses for a truth behind the man’s words. If Tavion was present, she’d surely feel her dark presence in the Force.

There was a vague sense of an ominous future, nothing she could tangibly read, but that was it. In agreement with the woman that leaned over her now, a hint of playfulness remaining, she could not pull upon the signature of the self-proclaimed Dark Lady of the Sith at all.

Was this a bluff?

"Shall we kill them for the affront? Or would you rather focus on our pilgrimage... for a few more hours?"

Fingers gently teased at the skin over Qi’ra’s bare shoulder and she melted into the touch.

It was a toss-up, really.

“Can’t we do both?” she suggested, an eyebrow lifting as she straightened marginally to bring them closer together. Recalling the invigorating encounter she had with the Disciples whose remains stained the interior of the shuttle, a thirst she absently recognized as a rising blood lust brushed against her thoughts. “It wouldn’t be wise to just…" one of her hands brushed out to the side, indicating the viewport and the space beyond. "... ignore them. Would it?”

Lumiya lifted her gaze to Syren and nodded. “No, it would not.” She keyed the weapons, powering them up in that instant and opening fire with the tail-gun at one of the two ships; the one Rouser and Feyna was aboard, of course.

She immediately switched to the next one, a bolt going through a wing and sending Sentan’s shuttle spiralling. Then, seeing that she had ‘merely’ blew through a wing of the first target, pouted. “Take over that gun, would you, apprentice?”

Lumiya ran her fingers across Syren’s shoulder to indicate the appropriate copilot seat and console.

Listening to the comm message Sentan was sending out it seemed they had a shuttle that was in their way and it seemed Sentan was trying to act all big and mighty by asking the newcomers to introduce themselves or die in the glory of Tavion’s power. Pascale shook his head, they might as well have tried to get past the shuttle without trying to be noticed, however Sentan had mucked that up.

Meanwhile Pascale was checking what they had on sensors. As well as the newcomers it seemed like there were quite a few ships below “Looks like we have plenty of mercenary types down below” he said “Czeka Cooperation, Sun Guard and is that a Mandalorian ship?” he snorted, “It looks like we have a veritable posse down there”

And it looked like the Tomb of Marka Ragnos was the Final Target, Feyna might not know about the Temple but Pascale had heard of it and there was a cloister there too marked with an X. This could be Feyna and Pascale’s next stop but only if they got past this shuttle and made it onto the ground and dodged the other mercenaries.

And X never marks the spot Pascale mused remembering something from his academic days.

They would have control back in less than five minutes, Pascale was about to ask Feyna what they should do next when the newcomer shuttle fired and hit Tavion’s shuttle blowing a hole in the wing and then fired again sending Sentan on a spin.

“Well our options are limited now” he said to Feyna “We’ve got a few minutes until we regain control of the shuttle so we can’t go anywhere until that stops. The only other options are to fire back, in which case we may get a lucky hit, I don’t know if Sentan can help us depending on how damaged his shuttle is. Or we comm Tavion for help and risk getting captured, although I could say you were assisting me as a bodyguard and we had to kill that trooper as he was a traitor…”

Thn he remembered what Feyna had said earlier “Or since your boss is tracking us, you call him for help. I’m not a tactician but that could help. The only downside is your communication could get tracked and you could be exposed. Also Tavion’s fleet is here so” he shrugged “Unless you can bring any of those Jedi in…”

Feyna frowned; she wasn't ready to resort to calling Drayson and risking completely giving herself away, or worse, having the transmission intercepted and traced.

"We could try to sell your idea of the other trooper as a spy, if they stop shooting long enough to listen, but if that doesn't work, we'll have to scram fast."

She scanned the control panel, but with the shuttle still out of whack from the first blast, it was hard to focus on anything. "We need to get the shields up--any chance this thing has a cloaking device?"

A quick working would raise their shields, but no cloak was evident. Their ship was entering atmosphere and the hole was causing all manner of turbulence, which unseated the personal effects of Tavion and sent them spilling into the main corridor, the brighter colours of her private wardrobe adding a gay note to the ‘dead Stormtrooper’ laying facedown otherwise.

Lumiya concentrated on the descent and the other shuttle plummeting, wobbling but making its way towards the Sith Academy-turned-Czerka HQ. With a frown, she felt her eye drawn to a different part of the Valley of Dark Lords; the same location that was marked with a X on the map Rouser and Feyna had access to.

Syren had her rear gun but it was a single-turret against raised shields on the wobbling shuttle of ‘Tavion’. While upgraded by Lumiya, it wasn’t enough; the forward guns though...

Lumiya went away for a moment, vanishing from the Force as she concentrated on the location below.

The Old Folks Home as her old colleague, Jeng Droga, had called it. When he called her to tell her that Palpatine was alive; but was he back? Surely she would have sensed him? Or would Korriban hide the man? It was her surprise that has allowed Qi’ra to sense her, and kick-started their interaction, after all.

While Lumiya focused, Syren had run of the ship... just as Rouser and Feyna would find their own weapon systems.

Qi'ra had dutifully assumed the co-pilot's chair as Lumiya took the main controls, immediately using the rear gun to try and do further harm to the injured shuttle. It took only a few precise shots for the Sith Apprentice to figure out it wasn't going to do kriff against the vessel's still functioning shields. "Master, this is doing little in the way of damage.."

She trailed off, having glanced at the Sith Lord and noticed her expression. Her face was slack and glazed over - she wasn't here, at least her mind wasn't. Instinctively feeling for her in the Force, their bond as sensitive as it had yet been due to recent events, she pulled back straight away. Her Master was withdrawn in intense concentration and she would not be the one that disturbed her.

"Right," she muttered, refocusing and straightening to switch the main controls to herself. Neverminding the fact that her haphazard cape covering had slid from her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up, she activated the forward guns and wasted no time peppering the space in front of them with laser fire, aiming for the descending starcraft...

They had been descending, and now, the bolts were more numerous; the shields burst and pierced, and something to the rear of the shuttle exploded, sending them out of Syren's angle of fire. Alarms screamed at Feyna and Pascale, and the ground began to approach.

Lumiya reached for Syren's hands on the controls, not paying attention to her skin for the moment. Her green eyes took in the two plummeting shuttles. "Leave them for now." She gestured forward. "I have found our true target. What lies behind the Disciples of Ragnos is obvious to me now."

She grimaced. "I should have realised it before."

Lumiya stood, tapping the display. "Take us here, and dress." She reached out with the Force, sensing the approaching oppressiveness. "Tavion is nearly here."

Now she was Master, and Syren was apprentice.

Which left Feyna and Pascale to manage their landing; the autopilot finally released them at long last - they had complete control of the shuttle.

Luckily the shields had come up which was a plus in Pascale’s book, but unfortunately the other shuttle with their attackers was still chasing them. Perhaps their pursuers were either allied with Tavion or perhaps something more sinister, people who were willing to take on Tavion and her cronies.

Tavion’s shuttle had weapons too, both forward facing and a rear gun so perhaps they could try and fight back, a shuttle containing the leader of the Disciples of Ragnos would be expected to. Of course it would put pay to Feyna’s suggestion of the other trooper being a spy or traitor and loyalists were now inside the shuttle, well loyalists in the other shuttles eyes.

But before Pascale could even mention the shuttles cannons to Feyna the other shuttle fired again as they dived, and unfortunately due to the autopilot still being active they were sitting ducks. And just as an added bonus they took a direct hit with an explosion now knocking their shuttle sideways and sending them towards an ill fated meeting with the ground.

“Well this is just bloody brilliant” Pascale said shaking his head then a ping on the console as the autopilot was released “Oh just in time I see” he said sarcastically.

“Well my dear, we don’t have a lot of time before we explode into a nice toasty fireball so either you can pilot or you can shoot, I can do either and I am sure you are quite the competent woman” he gave her a slight smile “And I think it is time we gave our pursuers a little goodbye present, don’t you?”

He wished he had his yacht Fortuna with him but unfortunately it was stuck on the Resurrection with it’s security system still active. But he was sure that he would have been able to teach whomever it was chasing them a lesson even with a single cannon.

“And I think we will need a new ship if we are going to get off this place. Because I don’t think this one is suitable for purpose anymore.”

There wasn't much time to think about it, and Feyna was already strapping herself into the pilot's chair.

"You take the guns, and make sure you buckle in," she told Rouser, taking the controls. A bad landing was probably unavoidable at this point, but hopefully she could keep them both from dying in the crash.TAG: @Sinrebirth@Jerjerrod-Lennox@QueenSabe7

As nothing happened Ka'rta stood there letting the voices laugh and taunt her. Under her helm she snared looking to the crystal that seemed to be emintating the voices. Looking into the reflection she saw something, something that never happened. Her standing with Han Solo, and Chewbaca, in a temple much like this with a statue that looked like the one that was above her. She didn't know how it was projecting it, or where it was from, but it wasn't real. Looking closely at the armor she could tell it was from years ago. There were subtle differences in her armor, she was young, and stupid back then, but she would remember working with that scoundel.

Looking to Kenix, he seemed lost in thought, though his eyes hadn't left the crystal. She furrowed her brow stepping up to him and turning his shoulder to face her.

"It's a trick, like the voices. I don't even know where that is." She said with harsh sincerity. There was a tempatation to just punt the gem away against the wall or anything to try and shatter it. Something about it wasn't right, it made her feel sick in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't her conscience, she burned that away a long time ago. It just didn't feel right, like it was unnatural not meant for this galaxy or for her.

"Come on, job's done, leave that thing for Tavion. I'm sure she would enjoy it unsullied by our mundane hands. Same with that tomb or whatever it is." She turned him and sent him on his way. "I'll stay here make sure everything stays in place for her arrival...make sure the others haven't gotten themselves killed." She said in her most commanding voice...She just didn't want him staring at that crystal any longer, before he got anymore ideas.

She thought of taking up the crystal and marching into the tomb, just to make sure it is cleared, but it just didn't feel right. She wasn't a Dar'Jetii, nor could she touch the force, this place seemed steeped in that religion. Though she gave no credence to the force controlling her actions this all seemed too much. The voices were clearly baiting her, trying to get her to do something rash.

She'd learned that if something was pushing you to go one way, you go the other, or you find a third option. This seemed like one of those moments. She stood post on the entrance, not going inside, not touching the crystal just standing guard making sure nothing changed.